Page 6 of Arranged Bullied Mate
“Hey!” She kicks the door closed behind her. “Ronan said you’d be here. He’s had to rush off to a wildfire at one of the farms and mentioned you were here alone. I brought you some stuff.”
She takes it into the kitchen, depositing the box on the large central island. I look toward the door to see if it’s still ajar, feeling the urge to flee, to bolt for the open door, but see that it’s shut again. Still, Emily has the keys; maybe I can get them off her. I’m running through scenarios in my head as I follow her into the kitchen. I wonder what Ronan would do to her if I used her to escape?
She turns and grins at me. “He told me you didn’t bring anything with you, so….” She shrugs, and her smile is all sunshine and easy warmth. It makes me feel bad for even considering getting her into trouble. “Some of it’s mine, some is new. Don’t worry; I picked neutral stuff.”
I cringe. “I’m not sure anything of yours will fit me,” I say, laughing nervously as I take in her willowy figure.
She blushes as her hands freeze mid-unpacking the bag. “I would absolutely kill for your curves. I know I’m like a beanpole," she says, waving her hand at her perfect athletic figure. “But these are a mix of sizes…”
I gasp. “You’re not a beanpole,” I laugh. “Who told you that? You’re beautiful.”
She shakes her head, a blush climbing up her neck. “Ronan always said I got the lesser genes. Which is hilarious, since he’s a walking tank.” She glances around, as if checking for him, then lowers her voice conspiratorially. “He’s lucky to have you here, you know. He pretends he doesn’t need anyone, but he does.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I move closer to the island, peering into the bag. She’s packed it with surprising care: soft, loose T-shirts, a couple of cardigans, even a set of pajamas that look brand-new. The box is mostly toiletries and a few books. It’s the kind of bag you’d assemble for a friend, not your brother’s forcibly assigned mate.
“Thank you,” I breathe, unsure if I’m saying it for the things or the effort. “It’s true, I didn’t bring much. I didn’t think I’d be chosen.”
She shrugs. “I wasn’t surprised at all when I saw you. You should have had more confidence.” She beams at me like being chosen is a good thing, although I suppose she must assume it’s what I wanted since I put myself forward. I don’t know what to say, so I simply smile as she continues, “Were your parents okay with you coming back to the pack?”
I feel my whole body tense at the mention of my parents. All I can see is Sophie’s beautiful face and my fear of what she’s going through right now. What have they told her about where I am? She’s so young, she needs me. My words get stuck in mythroat, and I know Emily’s watching me, the silence stretching on too long. I know I need to reply, and I force myself to look at her, fixing a smile on my face. There’s no malice in her face, just the open curiosity of someone who has never had to hide anything. “They weren’t too happy, but we’re not very close. I wanted to come home.”
Home is wherever Sophie is.
Emily reaches over and puts a sympathetic hand over mine. “That must have been a hard decision, but I think you’re so brave,” she says sincerely. “You made the right decision to come back to us. The pack loves a drama, but once you’re settled, they’ll forget all about your parents, and you’ll be so welcome.”
I have no intention of staying here, but for a moment I briefly wonder if that’s true. Would the pack ever really accept me? Would it have been different if I’d been born to a different family, in a different body? If I’d been thinner, or shyer, or more beautiful? The thought is bizarre, even as it floats through me.
Emily is still squeezing my hand, and it occurs to me that she must think I’m afraid. Maybe I am, but the kind of fear you get after the worst has already happened, after the wolf has already bitten down.
“I’m sure I’ll get used to it,” I manage, voice small but even. I pull my hand gently away, and she doesn’t seem to notice the coolness in the movement.
I busy myself unpacking her gifts, letting her chatter fill the space. She refreshes me on the best trails for running in the forest, although Ronan has shown no sign of letting me out. She makes my return sound like a happy event—if only I could ignore the underlying threat of violence from my parents and the strict hierarchy I find myself in here that governs everything, even my body.
Emily runs out of things to say at the same moment I run out of ways to make all this sound normal. She gives me a slightly troubled look that makes me think perhaps she can sense my reluctance to talk about my family, or maybe she’s just picking up on the anxious, sour spike of my scent. It occurs to me that I should try harder to be friendly. She genuinely seems nice, but I struggle to force myself into the easy rhythm that appears to come so naturally to her.
She finishes unpacking and says, “If you need me, just text.” She frowns, then brightens. “You have a phone, right?”
I cringe. “Er, no. I’ve just never needed one,” I reply, not wanting to sayI’ve never had anyone to call.
She frowns momentarily but masks it quickly. “I’ll tell Ronan to get that sorted; you need a phone. And I’ll come by tomorrow morning. We can have breakfast. I’ll make pancakes.” She gives me a quick, hopeful look. “If that’s okay?”
My instinct is to say no, but something in her expression, combined with my overwhelming sense of loneliness, stops me. “Of course,” I smile, trying to inject some sincerity into it. With any luck, I will escape tonight, but if not, I’ll probably be glad to see a kind face tomorrow.
I see Emily to the door and note that she triple-checks the lock, glancing back almost apologetically, so I know she’s had her orders. I wave as she walks away.
At least I know why Ronan hasn’t been back; it must have been a big wildfire. For some reason, it settles my wolf to know he didn’t just lock me in here and leave because he couldn’t bear to look at me. I shake my head, knowing foolish thoughts like that are only a distraction from what I need to do: escape.
I spend the next couple of hours searching all the unlocked rooms for keys, checking windows and doors forany sign of weakness, and generally assessing my options. Eventually, I start feeling exhausted; I’m not sure if it’s physical or just the emotional toll of trying to figure out this mess. Lying down on the bed is meant to ground me, but it does the opposite. The mattress is impossibly soft, nearly swallowing my body whole. The sheets seem freshly laundered, but Ronan’s scent clings to the pillows, and the smell is everywhere. I try to ignore it, but it fills my lungs, makes my skin tingle. My wolf, who has been dormant and numb most of the day, perks up, prowling just beneath the surface.
It’s not the first time I’ve been overcome by the scent of an alpha, but I’m not used to this kind of exposure. I haven’t been this close to Ronan in years, and it’s as if the time apart only intensified the effect. My body reacts before I can put up any walls. There’s a heat low in my belly, an ache that seems to pulse in time with my heartbeat. Worse, the more I try to tamp it down, the more insistent it becomes, the more my wolf stirs and paces and whines for something I refuse to name.
I bury my face in the pillow, foolishly thinking I can muffle the sensation, but it only makes things worse. The fabric is saturated with alpha, and I inhale deeply. I know exactly what this means, and I know it’s going to make escape so much harder. My heat is coming, which means my scent will be magnified and easier to track. Once I’m in full heat, I won’t be able to refuse Ronan. I won’t be able to run away from him. And I certainly won’t be able to kill him like my parents want me to.
How on earth can I rescue Sophie when I can’t even save myself?
Chapter 5 - Ronan
I realize I’m gripping the countertop too tightly when my knuckles begin to burn slightly. I glance down and realize that I need to let go before I do some damage, but right now, the solid granite is the only thing grounding my wolf. It’s been like this for days. Ava’s impending heat is driving my wolf crazy, and I won’t be one of those alphas who cave to their baser instincts, unable to control themselves around an omega in heat. Unable to control their wolves.